Evig Minner
by Lykoshire
Summary: Memories are eternal for the Nations. They will never die, they will live with them for as long as the Nations themselves exist. And this is the past of the Nordic Nations, the past and the history they have been through are etched into their very being.


**Eternal**** Memories**

The Norwegian sat by the perch of his falcon, patiently waiting for the newly captured gyrfalcon to slowly get hungry. Falcons were feisty animals, indeed. But it was interesting to note what hunger and desperation would lead one to. He knew that this was a procedure that he must be careful about. Not all men could handle a gyrfalcon. It was meant to be for the highest of kings. But then again, he was not a normal man. A normal man would not live for millenniums, observing the first Norwegians settling on the land, seeing the mythical beings that usual people could not see. A normal man would age year by year, but not this man, for he was a peculiar being. He blended in with people and that was not so hard at all. He changed his names as time progresses, changing it with time. He was not a historian, but he was the living history of the land, for he was Norway himself. He lived so long as the land existed; he lived so long as the people of the land knew of him. Without the people, he would just be a shell.

He looked at the falcon, musing. Were the people on the land somewhat akin to captured falcon? Were they the pets in their own world, thinking that they were the hunters? He shook his head at the thought. Whatever had made him think of that? It was definitely not a correct way of visioning his people like that. They had deserved living on this cold winterland. They had found ways to settle after the first ice age, they have rightfully earned their meals and they have respected the land they lived in. All was fair in what they have done. It was only right. He was with them from the very start of the civilization, and helped them from time to time. Now, he lived amongst them, doing the jobs of a normal person. He strived not to be distinct; he strived to be like them, for all of them were the people of Norway.

However, he mostly stayed in the humble abode of his house, albeit uncomfortable. He helped the Jarl from time to time as an advisor or whatnot. Most people were surprised how a man of such a young age was so knowledgeable. Oh how much they did not know. As a past-time and a secondary job of his, he helped to tame falcons. He was trusted by the Jarl himself to handle the gyrfalcons they had captured. If not, he would tame the peregrine falcons. They were remarkable creatures, and his fellow Vikings made good use of them to hunt ducks. He loved interacting with the animals, a lot more than humans themselves. They listened, but they were a lot quieter than people and made a lot less fuss. He was a reclusive man, painfully shy at that too. He only went out when he was really needed on had to run on errands. He noticed the gyrfalcon's head perk up and turn towards the door. Soon enough, he heard the shambling of chains and heavy footsteps. His reverie would soon be broken, and he had a good idea of the culprit.

"Hej, Eirik!" The door of his longhouse swung open as a loud blond man ambled in. Apparently, he had no idea what was the meaning of a knock, and he even dared to enter the house as if he owned it. The Norwegian just glared daggers at him. If only looks could kill. He noted the look of apprehension on the gyrfalcon. It was obviously unhappy with the sudden entrance too. After a while, he seethed out an insincere response.

"Magnus. I do hope that you will fix my door."

Magnus looked to the door, now torn off of its hinges and gave a sheepish smile as he waved dismissively. The look on Eirik's face was enough. He knew of his consequences if he did not listen to the Norwegian. He stood taller than Eirik, his shoulders broader too. However, he knew that the man before him was a lot faster, and that he could hold himself well in a fight. Knowing Eirik, he will find a ploy to trap him and kill him if he had pissed him off enough. In the back of his mind, he wondered if a Nation could die just like that, not that he wanted to find out.

Eirik sighed, exasperated, as he looked at Magnus. The loud, obnoxious Dane was a true Viking. He was ruthless and brash, and a darn good fighter out in the field. He would make a Berserker proud, indeed. Out of the battles, however, he was just a clumsy, silly Dane. Magnus was from the nearby land of Denmark, and by the gods, he was proud of it. The Norwegian sometimes wondered if it was a blessing or a curse that he would be acquainted with Magnus for many more years to come.

Even though Eirik would not admit it, Magnus was a reliable man while sailing and in battle. The two would often rope in their Swedish neighbor, Björn, and go on raids to the nearby lands, occasionally raiding the other countries. But other than that, they all operated on their own. Eirik with his Norwegian comrades would go to places to settle, even to the British Isle and certain parts of England. The Danes and the Swedes? He did not really bother to know, for he hardly cared.

It was surprising how the three of them managed to stay on a Gokstad together without Magnus or Björn throwing each other off the ship. They were not the type to band together. Eirik and Björn could get along fine, for both of them appreciated their personal bubbles and the silence. Magnus, however, just loved to push his luck and bug the two.

In Eirik's eyes, Björn was a good man. Silent and would help out when he was needed. However, just like his name, he was slow to anger, but once his wrath was triggered, it was better to clear off real quick. Lucky for the Norwegian, Magnus was the one who usually caused the explosive temper in Björn to rise, therefore making him take the brunt of the anger. Honestly, Eirik knew that Magnus deserved it, and had no qualms in the Dane getting beaten up. In Magnus' eyes, Björn was a hard-ass who was way too quiet for his own good, and a great target to piss off. Then again, it was Magnus. The insanely stupid Viking who does not know when to back off. The three of them generally had a rocky friendship, but they were great battle comrades, and none of them could deny that. Even though they were known as savages, they were great warriors. Magnus taking the frontlines with the Viking Raiders and Norse Swordsman with Björn sweeping in with Huscarls and Svenners to sweep through the battle. Eirik would stay behind, raining down hell with the Archers. If all those were not enough, the Berserkers would be unleashed, and they would gain total victory. The Vikings were a formidable force, and many knew of it. Yet, they were civilized traders at other times, having good trades from diverse places, even stretching all the way to the Byzantine Empire in the East.

Eirik immediately stopped his thoughts when he finally remembered the presence of Magnus in his home. He quirked an eyebrow in question as he waited for the Dane to speak.

"We just came back from another raid."

Eirik scoffed and rolls his eyes. "Well you don't say."

Magnus gave a small unmanly pout before gesturing outside.

"Come on, there's a feast going on in the great hall."

"Not interested."

"There's mead."

Eirik perked up a bit, conflict apparent. Magnus chuckled at his response before walking out of the Norwegian's house, and sure enough, said Norwegian followed behind, stepping out into the dirt and gravel road leading to the majestic Great Hall. Before entering in, he could already hear the ruckus from inside and the yells of obviously drunken people. Magnus pushed open the great wooden doors with ease and strutted in with confidence. Eirik on the other hand walked in coolly, sweeping his gaze across the room. One man stumbled over to him with his arms raised high. Olaf, their resident drunk, was yet again drunk.

"My favorite drinking buddy! Let's go get us some mead!"

Eirik looked at him with disgust before walking off, with Magnus sniggering from the side. He walked over to the front of the room, ignoring the stares he gained from the other people. Few people could actually stand near the front, where the Jarl sat. Thankfully, he was one of the 'few'. The Jarl looked at him and merely smiled goodheartedly before turning his attention back to the drinking horn filled with mead. Typical.

Magnus walked to his side, pulling behind an unexpected guest.

"Björn…?"

The Swede pulled his arm away from the grasp of the Dane before giving a nod of greeting the Eirik. Magnus seemed unfazed by Björn's action, and just grinned widely.

"This whole feast just for a raid seems a bit over-the-top," Eirik grumbled, growing annoyed at the noisiness of the scene. Björn nodded in turn. Magnus smile softened with his eyes full of compassion. It was a rare sight coming from the Dane, causing the other two blonds to share a glance for a mere second. Magnus shook his head as he stared at the crowd.

"It is, but they deserved it. Let them enjoy the feast. We all know that this way of living will soon change and it will be an experience we won't get anymore, other than this Viking Age."

Eirik and Björn were surprised by it. They did not expect Magnus to think of it like that. They could only nod solemnly. Uncomfortable with the atmosphere between the three of them, Magnus quickly intercepted a slave going around with the drinks and handed two drinking horns to the two other men. He took one for himself before waving the slave off. He turned to Eirik and Björn with a smile on his face before lifting his drinking horn out.

"No matter what happens in the future, we'll still be brothers, and companions to each other till the end of time, and we brave Ragnarøkkr together."

Björn had a small smile adorned on his face, and so did Eirik. They brought their drinking horns together, ignoring the small spillage of the mead, and brought the horns to their lips, downing the drink.

_No matter what, they will not die till the land itself is gone._

_They have no companions but each other._

_They were not mere men, but the embodiments of the Nations._

_They will bear the pain of the memories and history,_

_Knowing that all they have would be each other._

* * *

**So this is something I worked out in a few hours. I'm not really sure if I did it write (I doubt so) but yeah... Do review and tell me what you think of this? **

**And yes there's a Skyrim reference I added in. **

**Maybe if the response is good enough, I'll write up a continuation of this piece of work.**

**And you guys should write in some suggestions on what to write because I'm having a huge writer's block and an urge to write at the same time. I don't even.**

**Also, I'm trying to get an account on archiveofourown but there's a ridiculously long waiting list so... urgh.**

**And guys, realistically speaking, the names Matthias and Berwald wouldn't exist so I changed it. In my continuation (if there is one), they'll be changed again.**

**I really hope you guys would give me a review or critiques, yeah?**

**Cheers,**

**Stygian Vedrfolnir**


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